Mission 6/15

A voice of reason emerges from the past. “I can see both sides,” says the lingering influence of my editorial director at Citytv, a thoughtful, restless man who somehow managed to churn out the daily news at an alarming rate while maintaining a masterful standard of revision.

“The nature of writing news online is that it must be produced quickly and kept up-to-date,” he would have said. “At the same time, the writing must be high quality and factually accurate, or you risk credibility, both personally and for your organization.”

“But I can see your point, Erich,” this sage voice would have allowed. “Unfortunately, we don’t produce fiction here.”

Argument lost.

Not so quickly. I don’t like to go down without a fight.

The whole point of revision is to make something memorable and unique. That is the eternal quest. If it is not carefully contemplated, artfully amended, scrupulously edited or otherwise modified, what good could it possibly do in the long run?

And there’s the point, in those last four words.

These days it’s not about the long run, evidently. In many online spaces – namely social media – it is the written equivalent of yelling loudly and often for the purpose of being seen and heard over everyone else’s profuse shouting: “Hey look at me. I’m three shades of orange with purple stripes. If you pay attention to me, you will somehow be instantly rewarded or blessed.”

When I sit down to write, I view it as an opportunity to say something 1) impactful, 2) cohesive, 3) timely, and 4) entertaining.

How can I accomplish all of these things, and more if I’m lucky, if I don’t take the time and energy to remove the parts that are utter crap (nonsense, to use a proper term) and the sections that use too many words to make a point? What about word play that attempted to be creative but didn’t fit upon third and fourth readings? Never mind run-on sentences, improper use of punctuation and paragraphs laden with syntax errors.

This stuff is so easy to get wrong, even to the gifted and experienced writer...

About these people, the rare breed, who can fashion sentences that exalt, tantalize, ignite and arouse us, they are who they are because they have taken the time to hone their craft and honour the language. They pay close attention to the details of speech, in the same way that a proud brew master observes the formation of his trademark lager or a devoted mechanic tunes each engine he touches.

“Okay, so you’re not made for social media posting, or even news writing. We get it. Others do these things and do them well.” This may be the irritated response to my babbling on.

At this point I go searching for articles about the role of revision in online writing. I find nothing. So, I’m left to conclude that there’s a good reason for this dearth. There are many nuances involved in writing for an online audience but the requirement for revision is a constant from the olden days of dip pens and hand-bound books.

Revision is gruelling and maddening; that’s a given. Those who have spent a good deal of time doing it understand this. It’s simply not for those who would rather be doing anything but. Naturally there’s a reason behind the madness: striving for greatness. But that's difficult and it takes work.

Here’s some breaking news for anyone that doesn’t yet know: social media is difficult and takes work. Yes, it’s also fun. However, you can’t ignore the time commitment and the reality that the overwhelming majority of what gets posted is complete garbage; and trivial, easily disposable and quickly forgotten.

Writing is supposed to be difficult because that’s what makes it unforgettable. I borrow from one of my favourite scenes in the film “A League of Their Own,” where Tom Hanks champions the value of baseball (my greatest summertime passion): “Baseball is what gets inside you. It’s what lights you up. You can’t deny that … It’s supposed to be hard. If it wasn’t hard everyone would be doing it. The hard is what makes it great.”

Here, then, are the rules:

The items that are worn under clothes are not to be seen by me. It’s different if they are lying in a bag that she just brought home and tossed on the hallways bench. If they are hanging on racks in a store, I must never EVER turn my head in their general direction, because someone might see me do it, and it might be someone who knows someone who knows someone else who knows my daughter. That person might conceivably pass on word that she saw A and her dad in the store, near the “items that are worn under clothes” section, and A’s dad turned his head in that general direction, obviously with the intended purpose of viewing said “items that are worn under clothes.”

Keep a distance means not walking too closely and certainly never hugging or (God forbid) kissing. The precise distance is whatever A decides and it may increase if she sees someone she knows. In that case, it’s best for me to disappear altogether for the time being. I understand that it’s up to us dads to watch closely until said person that she knows is well out of viewing distance. Keeping a distance also may mean reminding ourselves this a mall, not a rock concert. The chances that daughter may be trampled, shoved or even brushed aside gently are not high, except maybe during pre- Christmas shopping season. Staying a reasonable distance away is always the best choice, and you don’t want to be sorry later that you didn’t do it. If you’re lucky, failing to keep space may mean nothing more than a stern talking to, teenage style, or a refusal to speak for days. If you’re unlucky, it may mean the revoking of all shopping privileges “like forever, because face it dad, you really blew it.” Take heed though, because all can be overcome by simply whipping out a credit card (the one with the highest limit) and offering its use as a grand apology.

Keep quiet is a ubiquitous rule. Don’t bother looking up the word “ubiquitous;” it means everywhere. And that means wherever you are that your daughter also happens to be. In the mall, it means speak only when spoken to, and even then keep your comments to a minimum. Meanwhile, daughter gets to drone on endlessly about the stores she will invade and all the cool new colourful things she will buy with your money. You are not to suggest alternatives such as a more appropriate and less revealing top, a warmer sweater, shoes with better soles and arch support, or anything that costs less but also has far less fashion appeal. It goes without saying that if anyone approaches for any reason whatsoever, you are to remain absolutely silent because, think about it, you may say something that may somehow embarrass daughter. Just admit it: you are entirely uncool and know less than nothing about the nuanced social graces of 2014.

A prelude to the next item: There should be a “No Dads Allowed” section at every mall, and it should be located inside the perimeter of a “No Males At All, Under Any Circumstances” section. This means that dads have special permission to enter the section’s periphery, which is lined with stores not containing any semblance of “items worn under clothes.” These stores contain such items are shoes, bags, make-up, and accessories, and maybe the occasional jacket or hat. Anything beyond that is private territory, which dads may or may not be likely to look at. So, it’s better to keep them out, in case one or two of them are morally questionable. As for non-dad males, there’s no question that they must stay away at all times, because they obviously fall under the heading of “may become morally questionable at any point in time.”

Carry stuff: yes, you have a clearly defined purpose. But there’s a catch: you still have to keep a distance and keep quiet, you are still not allowed in the “No Dads Allowed” area, and you will absolutely not be carrying any item that belongs in the category of “items that are worn under clothes.” You knew that, right? Or have you not been paying attention? Daughter will carry these items because they don’t weight much and they come in pretty little bags that are the envy of similar-age girls, who are all over the mall, like every day and all the time. (It’s as if they live there.) So, to get this absolutely straight, you may be asked to carry items that are big and bulky and may in any way impede the rapid progress of daughter, because she is not finished shopping yet. These items will likely not come in pretty bags but if they do, it is your duty to camouflage the bags or hide them entirely. You can bring along a bland-looking (non-embarrassing) large bag into which you will place all the smaller shopping bags. This large bag is NOT to be a sports duffel bag, in case you’re a doofus. It must be mall-appropriate – cavernous and collapsible – and easy to lug around from one end of the building to the other, and back.

Stretch: yes, after a workout. That’s when I get the deepest stretches, and I tend to lessen the after-effects of strenuous exercise. I think of it as preventive measures against that awful feeling of all-over body soreness the morning. I know that not everyone likes the kind of deep and prolonged stretching that I prefer. And, from talking to a lot of people, I know some aren’t sure how to stretch properly. That’s when I turn to the best resource of the day  If you’re still with me, check out YouTube for post-workout stretching routines, and lengthen those key muscles.

Breathe deeply: I often find that even though I ran for an hour or more, I failed to practice deep breathing. It’s not something I always think about when I’m ascending a steep hill or struggling just to make it home after a 15-kilometre trek.  But it’s certainly something that’s helped me feel even better, more relaxed, and more “centred,” after a workout or any time.  Here’s a site that I just stumbled upon with a few good breathing exercises.

Keep moving, a little bit: I like to go for a short walk later in the day, to keep the lactic acid in my legs from building up. Yes, the workout is done, but I find that I still benefit from moderate movement, especially after dinner. Don’t you hate that feeling of sitting still with a full stomach?

Get a massage / massage yourself: I’d love to have a professional certified therapist give me a thorough rubdown on a regular basis, but I don’t have that kind of cash. Plus, it takes time. I find that stretching helps lessen the need for deep massage. As for those pains in my neck, shoulders and upper back (from running) I find that I can usually massage them out myself. I often massage my own hands and feet as well.  The key is to find the trigger point and knead it until the discomfort subsides.

Take a hot shower: If you sweat as intensely as I do, you’ll know that you also get cold quickly after you stop exercising. When I go for runs in the cold Canadian winter (especially this past brutal winter) I have to be in the shower shortly after finishing or I’ll start shivering.

Soak in the hot tub: I’m fortunate enough to have one. It was here when we moved in two years ago. It’s old but sturdy and effective. A good ten-minute soak does wonders for stiffness and soreness. Sometimes I wish I had a sauna so I could alternate between the two.

They wanted to hang out alone so my wife and I biked along the beachfront to the pier that juts out by the lift bridge. The weather was barely warm enough for shorts and it’s always colder by the water; it was even chillier out on the pier. With our hands freezing but our spirits high, we stopped at the end of the pier where I snapped a selfie on the iPhone. It already had three ‘Likes’ on Facebook by the time we gathered the girls and headed home.

An hour later I felt like I hadn’t had much of a workout. Biking is fine and the wind and open air feels great but there’s not much cardiovascular conditioning involved unless you go a long way fast, or pedal up hill. I donned the quick dry outfit and tied a bandana around my head to keep the typical barrage of sweat from dripping down my face. With my earbuds in place, my sunglasses on, my iPhone in my fanny pack and my fanny packed strapped on, I was ready for a ninety minute challenge.

The only continuous hill in Burlington runs toward the escarpment, which means running with plenty of traffic around and trekking on top of a highway overpass. Ignoring the cars is the goal but sometimes that’s tough when the drivers are ignorant and don’t make eye contact. They were reasonably vigilant on this day, except for the aging lady in the sports car who failed to yield. By the time I hit Upper Middle Road I was three-quarters of the way to Dundas Street, but the steepest hill was in front of me. I made a note to conquer it next weekend. I turned left and ventured west on Upper Middle, a stretch of road that features a kilometre-long mild incline.

The incline ends at Brant Street, where I reached into my fanny pack and pulled out a half-full bottle of hydrating mixture: coconut water and mixed berries, an expensive concoction that my sister-in-law gave me for Christmas. (I hope she got a good deal.) I love the stuff but I’m almost out.

It was time for the long gradual descent down Brant Street. This is twenty minutes of relaxed jogging with the knowledge that all the hard slogging is done. There would be no more uphills on this day. When you’re forty-six years old and 230 pounds heavy, you’re always mindful of your capacity for climbing. Mine is greater than most but I have sensible limits.

Back at home with fourteen kilometres in my rear view, I took a seat on my porch and began talking to my next-door neighbour. It was getting cooler out and I knew I’d soon be cold and hungry. The temperature was still hovering in the high teens and my sweaty clothes were drying quickly, so I was comfortable. Even after a day packed with outdoor activity I was still enjoying the air. The long and brutal winter was finally over. The three-week-long virus that had depleted most of my reserves was also gone now and I felt refreshed. It was an odd feeling after so much movement. I can’t recall the last time I did this much exercise in a day.